Poet's Winter NightsThere's a cold sunset,Turquoise and orange,Amidst winter skies,A pearly white,That I imagine sometimes,It's clear as day,Even though that, too, fades away,With the orange and summer-like blue.One thing I'll always remember that's true,Virginia's sunsets are clear as can be,So I'll write this poetry,Beneath a night lit oak tree,Where blue and orange,Water and fire,Liquify into another type of desire.
DespairingTime and space,Wishing, yesMaybe grieving instead.Screaming voice, become my quieter acting skills,Lying with my teeth and tongue,Because my breath is but a waste.Breathe in the night air,It shuts up that voice.You know,The one that calls itself despair.
"Alone"Nighttime will hear your secrets.Your window open, the air spilling in,And squinting your eyes against the cold.Stars wishing the moon was there with them,And not behind fuzzy, puffy, darkened, dismal clouds.There is always the air to speak to, however,Or the birds to listen to your thoughts.The ground to lay your tellings upon,Or another broken heart.Grass to nuzzle your heartbeat intoLeaves to feel with your fingertips,Water to touch with your eyes,A broken up sky.There's so much more than you knew,It's amazing, really, creating a ripple effect,Spreading and dividing, searching, for the right wind to whisper to.That's alone.It really is.
FlyingFeathered are those soft wings,Lifted by air, resisting gravity,Never to be shattered in pain,Instead lift, without power or personal gain.Bird, sing me your secrets,Because I wish to be one with your wind,Eyes that spell fathomless depths,Abysmal in their own darkness, begin.Talons, never touch the ground,You'll find it's hard to be steady.No matter how slow the earth spins,Off balance is where I stand, not ready.Fight against the air when it pushes too hard,Never, just drift, and you'll find you will go far.Fly without fear and it will take you places,Whether south or north, you will find new faces.Be free within the sky,Though chained by the need to come down,You can still feel the sun in your feathers,Never a sigh or emotional cry.
Greetings and GoodbyesHi.A simply word,Sentence, perhaps,Everyone in every languageHas a greeting of some sort.Greetings are important.And so are goodbyes,Though they may trudgeOut of your mouth regretfully.'Bye.
BalanceI'm balancing on my own pain,Using others pain as my ropes to tie it down,I'm distracted by feelings I know,And pulled away from ones I don't.I'm probably going to use you as a balance beam.And you've got no idea how much that means to me.
HailIce is falling from the sky,And it resembles what my heart looks like,Pitter patter on the streets,In the middle of the night,Pinging like a heartbeat.Taking what we've been given,It seems so cliche to burn this glass,But it seems wrong,As flames lick around the shameless pyre,That no one wanted this.Barefoot, my toes,Touch the raw and icy snow,It makes me feel alive, this lackOf warmth and heat,Because I like seeing the beauty in the cold.Pulses of spine cold,Tremble up my arms and back,With each shiver, I'll remember the timesThat our hearts beat together,Though separated by winter distance.I wish upon a flaming star,That it will snow some more,Just to feel this alive,And get cut from a fractured glass storm.